Re-Birth
by TheTinyMouse
Summary: Being reborn isn't as straightforward as it might seem, specially when you land yourself in a fictional world. (Gen. OC-SI.)


Disclaimer: I, in no way or form, claim to own the fictional series that is Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, as it belongs to its author, Amano Akira-sensei .

Chapter warnings: English is my third language. If you see any mistakes, please notify me so that I can rectify it. No other warnings apply.

PLEASE READ BELOW.

So, I haven't posted anything on for six years, or the like. Woops? In any case, no promises, this is purely because I needed to get word to paper and get this idea out of my head. Updates will be slow, as I am at Uni and I have actual assignments due. I've started on chapter two already, but this story is purely for my own sake – I want to see where I can take it – so really, no promises.

I haven't kept up with the manga, and I've never watched the anime, so the story-line will probably be a bit vague apart from the big stuff. If there are to be any pairings with the OC, it will be a Yamamoto/OC, because I simply adore that boy. In any case, it will be a while before anything happens beyond friendship, but knowing me, I might end up rushing it (sorry). Also, yay for unoriginal titles!

Please enjoy the fruits of my labour. Ta!

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

Contrary to what people have written, being reborn and remembering being reborn is not as straightforward as simply regaining consciousness after death to find oneself within the womb and then (re)experiencing childbirth. I myself have long thought that if this were the case, the trauma of it all would wipe your memories and leave you a blank slate once again.

This is not counting the fact that an infant's brain simply cannot handle the strain of years and years of memories it has not actually lived through and grown with. No, the experience of being reborn and retaining the memories of your old life is a lengthy process, as your brain has to be able to handle all extraneous information pertaining to your past life.

So, don't worry – you will never have to live through the horrors of childbirth, or the embarrassing moments of early childhood when you don't know right from left and can't control your bodily functions. You won't have to remember the long process of assimilating any new languages in your current environment, nor freak out your new family with intelligence more befitting a twenty-year-old than a toddler.

What you will experience on the other hand will for many years have you confused, your family and friends worried, and all wondering what exactly went wrong with your brain. It will start when you are five, or maybe six; strange dreams will visit you in your sleep, eerie visions will interrupt your daily life, and odd thoughts disrupt your mental pattern.

The dreams will be fleeting, as most dreams are, giving your mere glimpses into your past life. The visions will leave you confused as to why that dog, which looked so real and you know is called Sammy, suddenly isn't beside you anymore, no longer there begging for some scraps of food with those mournful eyes you know so well (and can never resist). The thoughts will come at any moment of the day, sometimes leaving you sleepless for hours. They will aid you in answering quizzes, being unexpectedly called upon by the teacher when you weren't paying attention, and give you wisdom reaching far beyond your years.

It will take around a decade for all of your memories to take their rightful place within your mind, so as not to leave you drooling on the carpet from a swollen brain. Your early teenage years will contain the biggest influx of information as you are at the prime time for adapting to it. This influx will usually start when triggered by a word, unleashing the memories associated with it, each influx influenced by a certain word, or smell, or sight, and so on.

I never realised I was reborn until I turned thirteen. Until then, before I knew, I was just a precocious child with too much time on her hands. I had been born in Tokyo to a widowed mother and a father dead due to a car accident before he even knew about me. My maternal grandparents lived in some small peaceful town and sometimes visited us in our tiny flat. I went to school, came home with above average grades, and slowly the years passed.

I quickly learned to ignore the flashes of things which weren't supposed to be there, learned to control the few words of foreign languages that sometimes slipped into my speech when I spoke without thinking, and I never paid much attention to my dreams.

This all changed when mother fell ill and we couldn't afford to keep the flat as well as pay for her hospital bills; and so we decided to move in with my grandparents, in the small town of Namimori.

And I remembered.

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><p>It hit me like a brick to the head; images surged into my mind, flowing freely like a waterfall one after the other with no specific order. Noises resounded in my ears, music sometimes playing as well. It was a cacophony of colours, smells, and sounds that scrambled my brain into a particularly messy 3D Picasso.<p>

It was no surprise that I was knocked out for all the four hours it took us to get to Namimori, and even upon awakening I was no closer to understanding what exactly had happened. I suppose it can be explained sort of like this: image I had been an amnesiac for the last thirteen years, living a new life mostly unbothered by my previous one; all of this, until the memories were triggered and they flooded back.

It took me a few days of acclimatising, during which I moved in with grandpa and grandma, and mother was installed in her new room at Namimori hospital. She honestly didn't have it so bad, the hospital was modern, the rooms fresh and surprisingly comfortable, and the staff was professional and efficient.

As for myself, I moved into the tiny guest room at my grandparents' place that miraculously had an actual bed pressed into one corner, a small desk and wardrobe taking up the rest of the space. After having grown up sleeping in a futon (that tiny flat we had? Yeah, tiny.), a bed was an absolute blessing and I barely complained about the lack of space. Honestly, I was still pretty much out of it, still trying to understand all of the new information crammed in my head.

It took me a while, but I finally grasped three main things: one, I had been reborn, two, this meant I had died though I currently could not remember how (most likely due to trauma), and three, I had somehow landed in a fictional world.

I couldn't make sense of it, and the little I could remember was only thanks to my younger sister in my past life, who had been absolutely obsessed with Japanese animation and manga, one of which was Katekyo Hitman Reborn. She had ranted and raved about it enough for me to remember the key facts she gave me: a cute little boy (Tuna something) trains unwillingly to become a mafia boss under the Spartan baby tutor Reborn (how ironic), he collected hot friends to become some kind of harem of guardians, named after a weather forecast, and they all defeated a lot of bad guys together.

The only reason I really remembered the name of the town they all lived in was due to her extreme fascination with one of those harem people (some type of bird, I think? Goodness, were they all named after animals?), and she would rant for hours upon his many qualities (somehow, this sounds slightly wrong); she'd also said something about a cute bird-slash-pet that sang a song she'd made sure to learn and then belt out at every occasion that presented itself.

In any case, I didn't know much more and felt that I could somewhat safely navigate through my new life in a no longer fictional world without causing some kind of massive problem with the plot, because really, what were the chances of meeting the actual main character of the show.

Right?

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><p>Please leave a comment on what you think can be worked upon. If you have anything you want to see in this story, I welcome any and all ideas to spice things up.<p>

Thank you for reading!

– Mouse


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